Logan

156. I'm Giving You An Out

*Desmond's POV*

I scrambled to find clothes for her to change into. The entire night Gideon was eerily quiet, he'd called in a replacement squad so we could shift change for those who'd been too effected or hurt from the five-alarm.

Gideon walked up to me as I started Ripley's truck, "Hey, let us know how he's doing," He was quiet, "and how she's doing."

I nodded, and pulled out of the parking lot and started toward the hospital. I felt sick, seeing Ripley cumpled in a ball, pale, I couldn't help but remember the last thing he said to me in that hallway.

"She can't find out like this, she's gonna hate me. If I die, please tell her I love her, that I was never too far away from her. Tell her not to blame her mother."

"Sir," I was attending his injuries, and I had no idea what he was talking about, "We're going to get help, you can tell her yourself."

I remembered the way Natalie covered his wound instinctively, the way she kept him calm singing his favorite song, her face of terror. I tried to ignore the feelings of Ripley looking small. I shut off the truck and parked nearby, grabbing the bag of clothes I put together.

I'd tried to clean off my face the best I could, but I could still smell the ash from the factory. It was a total loss, and I could still see the bits of smoke from the hospital. Everyone felt the impact of Ripley's injury tonight.

The hospital was still difficult for me to navigate, I'd only come through this way a couple times, especially after 7:00 when they kept visitors to a minimum until 9:00 when visiting hours ended completely.

I walked down the twisting hallway, chairs and white walls, paintings of landscapes and hospital photos throughout. The occasional nurse sprinting past me, and trying not to ram into a medical shelf. I turned the corner and there she sat, still covered in soot and blood.

Shit.

I rushed to her, careful to slow down when I got in front of her, "Natalie," I said, putting my hand on her knee. Natalie looked up at me, her arms clutching the helmet, a breath of relief but she looked drained.

"Desmond," she said.

"Hey," I kissed her forehead, "have they given you any news?" I asked. She shook her head.

"Still in surgery but they said his surgery should be on the ICU wing board. I haven't...I can't move, just in case they had news."

"ICU is on the third floor," I said, "We should get you cleaned up and go up there, that way we can see when he's expected."

Natalie nodded and walked away, headed toward the bathroom.

"Poor thing hasn't moved this entire time, she seems really shook up." One of the nurses said to me, and I nodded.

I walked down the hallway to see Natalie still holding the helmet, and I quickened my pace, "Hey, why don't I help you clean up?" I asked.

Natalie and I walked into the bathroom and closed the door, locking it. Natalie started to strip, and I avoided looking, merely picking things up and placing them in the patient bag the nurse gave me. "You can look at me, Desmond." She whispered. I finished tucking the coat, pants and shirt into the bag, all that she stood in was her underwear and a bra. I felt a strange calm, knowing she let me see her at her most vulnerable, even after everything I'd said and done. It was a level of trust I hadn't felt since, well-

Natalie leaned down into the sink to rinse out parts of her bloody hair, and then handed me the paper towel, "Can you get my face, I can't... I don't think I can wipe it off without-"